


He Would Never Know

by Arkee



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Everything suddenly happens, Fluff, John Watson does what he wants and fuck the logic, John Watson likes the Ninja Turtles, John is so clueless, M/M, Sherlock takes too long to realize his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkee/pseuds/Arkee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson never noticed how he hurt his flatmate by going out with all of those women. Sherlock wouldn't never tell him, too. But how much time can Holmes hide that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Would Never Know

**Author's Note:**

> If something seems out of place or not good described, it's because I'm still new to this.  
> Although, I tried my best to fix my own mistakes.  
> I hope that you enjoy ~ :D

John never noticed how it hurt Sherlock every time that he went on a date with someone else.

It wasn’t because Sherlock would die from utterly boredom or something else. It was mostly because John was the only one that tolerated him, the only one who didn’t think that he was a total freak. He was his friend. The only one he’d ever got.

Sherlock just didn’t know how to thank him for everything.

What breaks his heart most is that John would go on dates with those women that he knew for barely few weeks or days and he would enjoy himself… without his best mate. He would have fun with almost stranger people.

And the good doctor is out on a date again. The detective’s chest aches.

The funny thing, though, is that Sherlock was used to the loneliness. It was okay to be alone. It was better than becoming friends with someone who could hurt him someday. Oh, and people knew how to hurt him. Even since his childhood.

His very first friend was a hedgehog that he found one day in the garden. Such a curious creature it was. Sherlock kept it hidden in his room until Mycroft found it. The day after that, the little fellow was gone and Sherlock was a friendless boy once again.

The younger Holmes gets up from his armchair, pretending to get something from the kitchen, since he hadn’t eaten properly in the last two days due a case and his stomach started asking desperately for food. But then, he stops when he faces the mirror.

_Dilated pupils._

Maybe it was because of the flat’s lights? Whatever it was, he instinctively took his own pulse.

_Accelerated pulse._

He can’t be sick or something. Sherlock is feeling alright… well, despite for John’s absence-

 _John’s absence_.

Then, the great Sherlock Holmes notices the obvious. Something he must’ve noticed a couple of months before, when he started feeling utterly bored and down every time that John wasn’t there, but it took so much time to him to figure out because feelings weren’t exactly his area.

 _He was falling in love with John_.

John was straight. He affirmed that every time someone barely suggested that they were a couple. Sherlock would only get rejected. Their friendship would be perturbed. No more Sherlock-and-John-at-a-crime-scene-together. It was out of question telling anything to him.

He blames himself for not being able to have control over his emotions. He blames John for being nice with him and smoothing him. He blames Mike Stamford for letting him meet John. Again, he blames John for agreeing in sharing a flat with him. He keeps blaming John for a thousand of other things.

_Although, right now, he just wants to kiss John. Even if there’s a minimal touch. He needs it. It's confusing._

But he couldn’t just do that. It would be in vain and it would also put their friendship in jeopardy.

He sighs and hears the sound of the front door. Then, someone’s coming upstairs. John is back. Sherlock even forgets that he’s hungry and that’s not a good signal, according to himself.

From the pattern of the sound on the stairs, Sherlock can deduce that John had, at least, one glass of some alcoholic beverage. He would probably make tea to sober a bit, and then he would go to sleep. But before, he would rant about Sherlock not eating anything since the morning and so, he would care to do something about it.

Then, John-Tipsy-Watson walked into their flat. His face was almost screaming ‘This night was horrible’.

“She told me – hic – that she wouldn’t date me anymore because I live with you.” John managed to say.

“So, you drank to get better before coming home. What a wise decision, doctor.” He didn’t meant to be sarcastic, but with his head still full of I-love-John-but-I-am-not-supposed-to-even-tell-him-and-I-am-confused, it just happened.

John just ignored that and went into the kitchen to make some tea. Sherlock watched as he put the kettle on, quite surprised for catching himself staring at John’s nape for too long. He was sitting again on his armchair by now, when John turned slightly.

“You didn’t eat anything since morning, did you?”

“My deductive skills are rubbing off on you.” He smiled.

John got back to the room, his balance affected, but not that much, and sat on the opposite armchair. He lead a hand to his face, the effects of the hangover would come in the morning to haunt him, most probably.

“Sherlock, we talked about this already. You may fall ill if you don’t eat. How are you… supposed to solve crimes like this? Oh God, my head. I’m never drinking again.”

Sherlock kept quiet, not knowing what to say.

“Should I order Thai? A pizza? Something?”

“Pizza sounds good.”

“This looks like a Ninja Turtles thing”

“What?”

“Oh, forget about this. Drunkenness speaking.”

When the pizza arrived, John was taking a nap in the sofa, while Sherlock was dissecting a bee that he found somewhere in the flat, trying to distract himself from thinking about what to do about his feelings for his flatmate.

Sherlock awkwardly poked the doctor to make him wake up and they ate and watched some crappy telly until a bit-more-sober-John-Watson decided that it was quite late and went upstairs to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The following days were just awkward. There were no cases. John wasn’t dating anyone as it would usually be. Sherlock kept playing his violin. Day and night. Sometimes composing sad songs. He wouldn’t speak to John at all.

And still, John Watson didn’t know how much it hurts Sherlock.

Well, not until someday when he went out to shop and got back earlier because he forgot his wallet.

Sherlock was in the sofa, curled up, still in pyjamas and dressing gown, crying and- wait… Sherlock bloody Holmes… crying?

“Sherlock?”

He glanced up through tears at his flatmate’s face. As he was near the sofa, Sherlock shifted a bit and reached for a hug, burying his head in John’s stomach, sobbing still.

Something was wrong and John knew it. He dared to touch Sherlock’s curly hair, petting him to make him calm down and the detective just hugged tighter, to reassure that John wouldn’t leave.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong? You never cry, what the bloody hell just happened to you?”

“Oh, John…” This was even more sobbing and not Sherlock telling John what was wrong.

“Sherlock, please. You’re not okay and I feel quite not okay with you being not okay.”

“I envy you”

“What?”

“I envy how things work easier for you.”

“I still don’t get it?”

“Feelings, John.” He keeps hugging the doctor impossibly tight. It feels warm, he doesn’t want to let go. Sherlock closes his eyes out of frustration. He’s still crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how to deal with this. I tried to divorce from such things. But this time…”

John starts to realize what’s going on.

“Oh. You finally found someone who you are fond of, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I guess. But it hurts, John. Why does it hurt?”

“Did you get rejected?”

_Oh, innocent John. Only if he knew…_

“No, I didn’t tell them yet. It’s just… I miss them when they’re away.”

“Just tell them?” John suggests, raising an eyebrow. He’s looking down at Sherlock, quite worried. “Can I at least know about who we’re talking about?”

“No.” Sherlock is a trembling mess of feelings and tears and John. _Oh, John. It feels warm, it feels right_. He can’t do this.

“Sherlock?”

“John, I can’t… I can’t do this.”

Sherlock looks up for a bit. He can see a very concerned John through his tears, his face almost screaming ‘I do care so much about you feeling down like this, I’m worried, please tell me already, your bloody wanker’. What if he knows it and then he just doesn’t talk to him anymore? Sherlock doesn’t want John to go away.

And John can see how much it hurts. The only thing that John doesn’t know is that it’s him the cause of too much pain. It’s quite heart-breaking to see Sherlock like that.

“Oh Sherlock…” He sighs, petting his flatmate’s curly head. “Well, this isn’t working. Can I sit down?”

Sherlock lets go of John, slowly, so if he tries to escape from the living room for anything, the good doctor won’t be able to do it.

But John just sits beside him.

And Sherlock immediately pulls him closer again and buries his face into John’s neck. It feels warm. They stay like this for a while.

“You know, it’s okay to cry. But you’re making me worried.”

“I can’t…”

“Why? Is it about someone I might know?”

“It would destroy the friendship we have now.” Sherlock’s voice is almost a whisper.

“It won’t. Tell me.”

“It will, I know it.”

“You don’t have how to know that, Sherlock. Trust me.”

John wanted the truth. He was sure that it wouldn’t hurt to know, but Sherlock knew that it could affect their friendship way too much. Although, John was making him so comfortable that –

“John, I think… I may be falling in love with you.” He said, his face still buried on John’s neck.

The doctor’s eyes instantly widened. Was him serious? He shivered. This wasn’t time for a sexuality crisis. How did he feel about his flatmate was the question. It was true that he often preferred to run after criminals with Sherlock than having a boring dinner. He truly cared about Sherlock’s health too. And God forbid it, but he didn’t know how he would feel if Sherlock eventually died. But was it enough to both of them be more than just friends?

He couldn’t risk everything to discover later that they couldn’t work together like that.

But Sherlock was the exception for everything else in his life. And John had to admit that his flatmate was gorgeous.

Well, maybe John wasn’t totally straight after all.

_Oh, fuck the logic, I love this bloke. How had I didn’t realized this before?_

But then, Sherlock interrupted his thoughts.

“I knew it. You don’t love me back, do you?” His voice was a weak whisper, and John feared looking down and meeting those icy eyes all teary. So John did what he could do best at the moment, hugging the taller man tight and placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“John?”

“You didn’t expect this, did you? So, there’s it. I think that I love you too.”

Sherlock shifts, so he can see look down fully into John’s eyes. He still didn’t understand why John was dating those women if he felt the same towards him. But he was quite wondering if he imagined the army doctor saying what he just said.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“Just the four last words. Can you repeat them?”

“I love you too.”

 _Oh God, John really said it. And he really meant it. I can tell by his eyes. I can tell by everything on him. Oh God, John. I love you so much_.

For a really brief moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes. Then, Sherlock had his hands on John’s nape, pulling him into a kiss and soon, their tongues were exploring each other’s mouths, as if trying to memorize the shape, the taste, that feeling in that moment.

They eventually break in for air.

“Do… you know what hurt me more?” Sherlock’s breath was coming in pants.

“Uh, enlighten me?”

“It hurt me that you went out of the flat to meet those women. It hurt me to know that you weren’t close and that I was alone again, even that it was by a single moment. And I feared that you would run away if I tried. And you would be so far away. I would prefer to die than seeing you go away from me. I think that… I can’t function without you anymore.”

“Oh my God, Sherlock. That’s the sweetest thing you ever said. I didn’t know… that you could be… uh, such a romantic? But, let me tell you this, it’s not going to hurt anymore. It’s never going to hurt ever again. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Is this some sort of promise?”

“You bet.”

“It must be sealed properly, then.”

He pulls John into another kiss. Things would obviously get hotter on 221B that day, and the thin walls wouldn’t prevent Mrs Hudson from knowing about it. It was about time, she would think, smiling, dialling Mrs Turner number to tell her. Oh, what happy news!

Although, it would never be closer enough and they would always need more. And Sherlock would learn very fast that it was a nice way to kill the boredom between cases. John could finally stop denying that Sherlock was his date or that they wouldn’t need a double bedroom.

Yet, it was priceless to just know that Sherlock would be a prick to everyone less him. Whenever they would be alone, the great detective would be the usual clingy boyfriend and he would make John melt just with words, while they were cuddling in the afternoon.

And John would never know how lucky he was.


End file.
